


united under kingdom, and unto each other

by papencuts



Series: jellyroot and many other causes of catastrophy [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Almost Sex, KEEP SCROLLING, M/M, Neck Kissing, Royalty AU, all sweaty and ripped looking??, andrew boxes, andrew does backwater boxing, bc yeah i crave domesticity, but also......., heavy making out, his man?, it annoys neil, neil is soon to be king, neil may have to have a Peep, regency boxing, royal au, starts off very Intense and Sexy and finished very Gentle and Domestic, surprisingly tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21972877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papencuts/pseuds/papencuts
Summary: “Can you imagine what this would do the crown? Backwater boxing matches, associating with drunkards, and criminals… These bruises, Andrew, gods… People are going to think I beat you.”“No one is going to think that. It’s almost assumed that you like me to beat you.”
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: jellyroot and many other causes of catastrophy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581700
Comments: 8
Kudos: 138





	united under kingdom, and unto each other

**Author's Note:**

> this sat in my drafts for ages bc ive been working on so much wlw... i can’t help my love for women... anYwYasy
> 
> enjoy this continuation of my royal boyals :)

Neil wandered the grounds, robe fluttering in the gentle breeze of the afternoon. His castle, his kingdom- Neil was a week away from his coronation, as the first King to be wed to a man. 

Andrew had been amiable to the prospect: “I knew it was coming. It’s no secret you are to be married. And the mere thought of it makes you happy, no?” 

Neil had practically swooned. 

Their relationship, although unconventional in many, many ways, was exactly what Neil had always wanted, and not, at the same time. Loving Andrew was not always fire and brimstone, hot and heady, and in fact, Neil relished this fact- he found himself falling exponentially harder when there was a moment made of peace and soft touches and the blatant  _ knowing  _ of one another- Neil pulling Andrew’s legs across his lap and idly palming the taut muscles because as the soon-to-be-King and the leader of one of the army’s finest regimens, Andrew was on his feet from rise to setting. He knew that this was appreciated because the first time he did it, he was treated to a surprised, choked out moan followed by deep sighs Andrew did his best to conceal. 

But none of it got past Neil. 

He knew that Andrew liked the darker, smokier teas, and had them imported from all over the world just because he saw Andrew reaching for two boxes at once with a fond smile when he woke in the night and didn’t want to disturb Neil. That, and Neil liked kissing the taste in his mouth. 

Neil also knew that Andrew really, really liked having his neck kissed; Neil had made it a mission, of sorts, to make sure that at every possible time he could, he would kiss, suck and bite at that pale, muscular column. 

A delivery of a teacup while reading, while unashamedly distracting Andrew from his letters and duties, in the spiral staircases and shadowy corners of the castle. It was often common talk of the servants, the marks one could see just above the collar of Andrew’s knight’s uniform. 

Their relationship was not without their faults, though; Andrew could grow distant and Neil often tried to run from conflict both literally and figuratively. Andrew shut himself off and Neil was all too reactive, all sharp eyes and razor tongue. 

And perhaps, more trivially, the most contentious of subjects: Andrew’s backstreet boxing matches. 

Neil had discovered, one evening, while walking back from the parlour to the castle, a strikingly handsome man through the window of a seedy pub. 

Neil could only see his bare back but it took nigh ten seconds for him to realise, yes, that was  _ his _ strikingly handsome man, and why yes, he was sweating, bruised and bleeding slightly on his shoulder. 

Neil had slipped into the pub and lingered in the shadows until Andrew had collected his earnings from three straight wins. Then he pounced, insisting he put a shirt on and dragging him home by the ear. 

“Can you imagine what this would do the crown? Backwater boxing matches, associating with drunkards, and criminals… These bruises, Andrew, gods… People are going to think I beat you.” 

“No one is going to think that. It’s almost assumed that you like  _ me  _ to beat _ you _ ,” Andrew had said, sly and sexy with a half smirk as Neil stood between his legs and put a salve on the split lip. Andrew had palmed his ass and the back of his thighs as Neil shot him a flat look, unimpressed. Andrew had simply pulled him into his lap and promptly smudged any and all of the salve that Neil had tried to put on his lip. After all, there may have been some truth to what Andrew had uttered. 

And so the boxing continued, because Neil was, at the heart of it, very busy and could not always bother to sneak around chasing down his miscreant. Especially because Andrew could do what he liked, even if Neil didn’t like it. 

And he didn’t. 

(Maybe a little bit, but only in a very, very small, primal way.) 

  
  
  


So when Neil can’t find his soon-to-be-husband on one of those warm, summery evenings that do funny things to Neil’s chest, he is, quite frankly, affronted. He ended up going into town with Nicky, who was very much a keen listener to Neil’s frustrations. 

Or more, knows the place that will listen for him. The pub. Halfway into his ale, Neil got angry. 

“You know now what, Nicky? Fuck Andrew. He’s a mean old bastard, how dare he leave me. It’s such a nice afternoon, and now I’m in a pub and not in bed with him when I could be getting the dicking of a lifetime. Maybe he should hang.” 

Nicky just patted his shoulder and chuckled. 

A cheer went up on the other side of the pub and drew Neil’s eyes to the small boxing ring set up in the corner. 

“Oh my gods. He did not.” 

Nicky laughed maniacally as he watched Neil seethe. 

Neil pulled himself up from the chair to watch his fiancé climb into the ring, trousers tight, chest bared. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Neil muttered under the cheering of the crowd as Andrew’s opponent came forward, shaking hands with Andrew. “He’s going to get mauled by this gorilla of a man and then I’m going to have to marry an invalid.” 

Nicky slapped his back and handed his betting money to the man, ignoring Neil’s scandalised squawk. 

Neil refused the watch the first moments of the match in favour of chewing out Nicky. 

“Fuck you, Nicky. And fuck Andrew too,” he sighed, before he caught a glimpse of slick, sweaty skin, bloodied knuckles and that hard, determined expression, the set of his jaw and the quick, strong flex of his muscles as he delivered blow after blow. “Fuck…  _ Fuck _ , Andrew,” he whispered, swallowing thickly as he eyed Andrew’s taut abs, wanting to lick the sweat off them. 

Nicky rolled his eyes and muttered something, but Neil was too busy eyefucking his almost-husband who was the picture of Adonis. 

Andrew copped a few blows but never got knocked down, which was more than could be said for the opponent, who was crumbled to the ground by the end. 

Neil clapped for him as a riot went up in the pub, awkwardly shifting his robes to hide his epic and unwilling to soften erection. 

When Andrew received his sack of coins, he dropped it right by the face of his groaning opponent, it clinking happily as Andrew discarded it. As he jumped from the platform, Neil stepped forward, and something in his eyes must have given it away, because Andrew’s hand went directly to his hair, tugging ruthlessly. 

“See something you like, my Prince?” he asked, whispering dirtily in his ear. Neil gave a high whimper, distantly hoping no one was paying them any mind. 

“How would you feel about everyone in this pub watching me take you right here, making them know you’re mine? Fucking you good and raw and rough? That’s what you want, Highness?” 

Neil was putty in his hands, unable to form a sentence aside from “Gods above” and “ _ Andrew. _ ” which were mostly garbled anyways. 

“Tell me what you want, Neil.” 

Barely, he opened his eyes and bit his lip tightly before whispering, “I want you to take me home fuck me so good I won’t walk properly until coronation,” 

“It’d be my honour, your Royal Highness,” Andrew responded, kissing him long and hard until someone gave a wolf whistle and Neil insisted they escape. 

Stumbling into the recently-repurposed-abandoned guest house on the very edge Castle grounds, Neil felt like a high god of coincidence. As his back hit the mattress he was starkly reminded of how he’d given his body to Andrew for the first time exactly here; the guest house, the bed, the fireplace crackling. 

He tracked his fingers down Andrew’s back, feeling the rough cloth of their trousers be ground into his crotch, tilting his head back and moaning at the ceiling. He was entirely numb and hyper-sensitive simultaneously, feeling every zap of touch settle into the base of his spine. 

Andrew had his thumb pressed down on Neil’s lower lip, licking into his mouth while he gripped his face with authority. 

“I’ve never known a Prince to love being run by somebody else. How will you rule a kingdom if you live submitting to me so much?” Andrew teased, too much affection in his voice to cause trouble. 

Or more, just the right amount of trouble. 

Neil nipped Andrew’s finger and stared him head on with his intense eyes. 

“I’m the only Prince you’ll ever know like this,” he growled, tightening his thighs around Andrew and (with some aid from Andrew, but just a little) flipped their stance so he sat across Andrew’s thighs, hands splayed on his chest. 

“Yes, my Prince,” Andrew said reverently, looking at Neil completely undaunted. 

Neil bit his lip and his cheeks flushed, but tapped Andrew’s cheek in chastisement. 

“That’s  _ my King  _ to you, thank you very much,” he grouched, as if he wasn’t rolling his hips over Andrew’s erection to try and get friction on his own. 

Andrew sat up slightly, so Neil’s fingers slipped to Andrew’s abdomen, feeling the muscles work to prove Andrew alive, tangible, all man. The coarse hair and Neil’s practised, indelicate touch as he looked at the spit glistening between Andrew’s lips. 

Neil’s throat bobbed at this sheer act, the beasts it made of men. 

“My King,” Andrew rasped, eyes flicking between mouth and iris, the picture of ravaged man, both hands gripping Neil’s face to bring their wet mouths together. 

Neil went willingly, fingers gripping Andrew’s sides as he rocked into his fiancé’s touch, biting lips and gasping moans. 

“How do you want me?” Andrew asked, always leaving Neil to voice his needs and wants in these, and all, situations. 

“Inside me,” Neil said quickly, breathy, grabbing Andrew’s wrists and putting them to the tie of his cloth pants. Andrew just chuckled and sucked a spot on Neil’s neck while undressing him. 

Both were naked after some shuffling, Neil crawling over Andrew to place himself in such a fashion that there was as much skin on skin contact as possible. 

Andrew chuckled, expression bemused as it often and only was around Neil. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, tone soft. A hand found its way into red curls. 

“Trying to. Absorb you? I don’t know I just like the feeling,” Neil muttered, putting his forehead directly over Andrew’s heart. Andrew scratched the back of his head with one hand and rubbed his spine with the other, feeling more than hearing Neil’s low noises of pleasure and comfort. Neil could feel the amber eyes on him but cared very little for it. 

He let out a long-withheld sigh. “Feelsnice, ‘Drew,” he slurred, losing his steam a little to the comfort of Andrew’s hands. Suddenly, he opened one suspicious eye. “Still can’t go boxing, though. Don’t think you’ve made me forget.” 

Andrew knew that for a moment there, Neil had definitely forgotten. Probably around the same time he’d spotted Andrew’s erection and tried to climb him like a tree in an alley on the walk home. 

“I’ll make it a royal sport. We’ll hold tournaments, raise funds and boost morale. We can pretend to spar and end up fucking because I like it when you pin me down, it’ll be marvellous,” Neil mumbled, making Andrew snort. “Just don’t in the pubs. Not when you could be hurt. Really hurt,” Neil said softly, 

“Okay, my love,” Andrew agreed, kissing the top of Neil’s head. Then, he whispered, after kissing his temple, “you’re going to be a wonderful King, Neil.” 

Neil shifted, tilting his head to look at Andrew. “You think so?” 

Andrew nodded earnestly. “I do. I think we’ll even better as one, united under Kingdom and unto each other.” 

Neil shuffled to kiss Andrew softly, lips brushing to their own amorous melody. Andrew brushed through Neil’s hair until the blinks that hid blue eyes grew longer. 

“Are you sleeping while kissing me, my King?” he teased, and from Neil’s non-committal hum, and the way his heavy head fell to Andrew’s collarbone and stayed there, Andrew assumed Neil’s grand plans of endless and raucous sex would be reserved for another time. No matter, he thought. They had forever for that. As long as they both shall live. 

(Or, as it turned out, that morning would suit them just fine.)

  
  
  



End file.
